I am perfectly fine,Well except for
by Darke Eco Freak
Summary: We've all got something wrong with us, something that isn't quite normal. Maybe it's a fear, fear of snakes, the dark, or maybe it's something deeper, a mental disorder. Sometimes you don't even know there's something wrong until it creeps up on you. We've all got something wrong, from the best to the worst, so what's wrong with the Yamis and Hiakaris?
1. I'm just a disturbed little boy

**DEF: Well I only recently got back into the Yu-Gi-Oh! fandom and damn am I in deep! Thanks to Rave for getting me back here.**

_Ravyn: Yeah, she owes me for beta-ing her crap and today is Ryou's birthday. Happy Womb Liberation day Ryou! This will be a series of oneshots showcasing various Mental Disorders, Phobias, Songs occasionally and Shippings. Today's shipping: Tender!_

**_Gabriel: -Le sigh- Neither DEF nor Rave nor Riel own Yu-Gi-Oh!, just the weird stories that emerge whenever they brainstorm about the characters. Also, that which is underlined is spoken between Ryou and the therapist, the italics are Ryou and Bakura talking to each other._**

* * *

:Hello Ryou, my name is Rin St. Daniels and I am the school's new guidance counselor.

A pale skinned boy with warm chocolate brown eyes took a seat in the rather spacious office. Hands folded neatly in a navy blue clad lap, gaze fixed on his fingers, pure white bangs partially obscuring his face from the woman. This was the third time for the month he'd been here, this was the third counselor he'd been to see, the first was dead and the second had had a nervous breakdown.

:Hello, it's nice to meet you Ms. St. Daniels. If I'm not being rude in asking, why am I here?

Everything about this boy is angelic, his soft cherubic face, his warm brown eyes, so open and trusting, even his voice was quiet and respectful. How was it possible that this boy had scared more than half the school population into silence. What could he have possibly said or done to horrify his schoolmates so badly that they all refused to say anything negative against Ryou Bakura?

:There have been reports of strange behavior, on your part, from your teachers. Nothing bad, just a lack of attention in class, talking to yourself on a regular basis, all perfectly normal for a teenager but according to your teachers, this is unusual behavior for you.

He stiffens for a few seconds before slouching further into the armchair, white hair falling over either shoulder to completely hide that angelic face. They both know the rest, the unspoken end of her revelation, they both know the **_real_** reason he's here and it's not for something as petty as inattention in class.

No, Ryou Bakura is sitting in this chair with this therapist because of the dead cat he strung from the school flag pole, not caring who saw him as he slit open its stomach, letting its intestines wave forlornly in the breeze. He's there because he burst out cackling in class and pulled a switch blade on the teacher for daring to tell him to take his seat, for breaking a boy's arm and doing…_things_ to his mind. Things that had made him into a senseless, blubbering mess, among others.

:I'm sorry about all of that, I really am, but I have no control over him.

Oh, that's gotten her attention and all he can do is try to hide himself from her too keen gaze, slump into his chair and let his hair hide his face from her, otherwise she'll see the smile on his face. The soft smile that says 'I know something you don't', like a child with a secret.

He's an interesting case, a specimen, that's all he is to her, to them, anyone. They don't really care about him, all they want to know is how can a straight A, perfectly behaved, 'angelic' student turn into something so demented, so **_sick_**, overnight? What could have possibly done this to him? And more importantly, how unique was this, how can we possibly use this to our advantage?

:Him? Who him, Ryou?

He wants to laugh, **him**, not the other one, the one who's done all the bad things he gets blamed for. This woman really thinks he would tell her anything so freely, someone he's only just met? And here he was thinking therapists were supposed to be smart, oh well, so much for that.

_Tell her, Ryou. Tell her everything, break her like we broke the last two._

The whitet freezes in his chair, it's so very rare for the other one to speak to him when there are other people around. He says that he could get in trouble, that people might notice his attention fixed on something that no one else could see. A lopsided grin finds itself on his face and he's glad for his long hair falling across his face, obscuring his true intentions.

_Well then, if you're sure._

He sits up straight in his chair, one rosebud lip caught between perfect white teeth, warm chocolate orbs darting from one corner to the next. He glances at the therapist's face and notes curious green eyes watching him intently, eyes like his father's, he hates his father.

:T-the other one. He lives in my head and tells me…things. He's my only friend, my only real friend at least. He gets angry rather easily especially when the others bully me, when they hurt me.

Oh, he's caught her attention now, she's scribbling in her notepad, trying to make it inconspicuous but he's been with enough therapists to know what they're doing. There's a large window behind her and he can make out the words 'DID' and 'Possible Self-Harm.'

His eyes go hard at the label of Self Harm. What the hell was wrong with her? He told her that the other students bullied him, why in God's name would he want any punishment more than that?

:This…'other one', as you put it, does he have a name?

:Of course he has a name, it's Bakura.

He grants himself a slight smirk as she underlines the label DID. Honestly woman, his best subject was Creative Writing, or didn't she know that? Assuming she had his school files, which she probably did. If he really did have a split personality, or a dissociative identity, then he would have at least come up with something a little more original.

Really, using his own last name was so tacky.

:Okay, so this Bakura, tell me about him, how does he treat you?

Ryou might have been the sweeter of the two, the innocent, the 'light' as it were, but even he wanted to strangle the woman sitting in front of him. Dear God woman, didn't he already tell her that Bakura was his only friend. And truly, despite his anger issues, Bakura treated him well, took care of him, protected him from those bullies.

How in the name of all that is holy has she gotten her certificate to become a practicing therapist? Someone out there must have one hell of a sense of humor.

:Bakura is…special. He doesn't talk much but he does a lot of things for me, like get rid of those bullies, he really is quite protective of me. I'm his Yadonushi, and no one else is allowed touch his Yadonushi, just look at what the other boys did to my arms, the ones he put in a coma.

Here he sticks out his arms and pulls up the sleeves so she can get a good look at his brands, hell, anyone who wanted could look at them. There's gauze wrapped around some of the deeper cuts, the ones that Anthony made with a bit of broken glass while Roger held him down. Bakura was so angry after that, didn't say a word before taking over to hunt down the boys.

:Oh my! Ryou, why would you do something like this?

He has to work to suppress the annoyed sigh that wants to escape his throat, well she's obviously new at her job if she can't even keep up the pretense like a professional. What? Hasn't she ever seen a cutter? Not that he is one, but at least have the decency to look it up online before coming to a school and trying to help people. None of his emotions show, however, he's much too good an actor at this point, so instead of contempt, all she sees is horror and disbelief.

:W-What do you mean? How could you even think something like that?

Ah dawning comprehension as she spots her mistake, but it's too late, much too late. For her, for him, for everyone. It was too late the day he first put on the millennium ring. The day his father finally decided he wanted something to do with his family, well thanks so much father dearest. At least you gave me one friend to make up for leaving me alone all this time.

He cringes violently as she reaches for him, fixing a 'deer in the headlights' expression to his face, forcing the tears to pool. He's gotten scarily good at crying over the months, ever since the other had started taking control.

:Sorry, I meant Bakura, why do you let him do this to you?

And now there was a feeling of intense disgust, he was disgusted with this woman who was pretending to she knew best, pretending what he told her didn't sound completely insane. He hated liars, one of the few things Ryou and Bakura had in common.

:You think **_Bakura_** did this to me?! Bakura would never lay a finger on me! Sure he sometimes plays a bit rough but he's never hurt me, this was done by Anthony Donavan and Roger Thiery.

He doesn't know where the intense self loathing comes from but it covers him like a tidal wave, sucking him down into its depths, suffocating him. His chest feels so constricted that he can hardly get a decent breath of air.

His mother and sister had died in a car crash while on their way to the airport. His parents had separated and mother and Amane were going to live in America, far away from him. Father, father hated him for his effeminate appearance, so much so that he left him alone, only sending cards for Christmas. The hate, however, was mutual, they blamed both themselves and each other for mother and Amane's death.

If only they could've been better for them. If father had actually given a damn for his family instead of travelling all around the God forsaken world all the time. If he had behaved more like a son, listened to his mother, played more with his sister, maybe mother would've taken him with her as well and he would've died in the car crash with them.

_Calm down Yadonushi, did you forget you still have me? Don't let this woman break you, you are far stronger than she could ever be._

A barely there pressure on his shoulder is all the comfort Bakura can give him while someone else is there and it will have to do. He breaths deeply, slowly, starring the therapist dead in the eye as she continues to speak.

:Ryou, listen to me, you're a wonderful, intelligent individual. Never believe anyone who says you aren't, not even yourself. I'm only trying to help you Ryou, you don't have to lie to me because you feel ashamed, I promise this will be kept between you and I.

So she was taking **_that_** approach, the 'You are worth it! You're a credit to society and all who disagree can go suck it!' Gods he hated that approach, the first therapist had tried it on him, he hadn't made it home in one piece. Besides, where did the bullies fit into this? Why was did she keep on insisting that he did all of this to himself?

:What about the bullies? What am I supposed to do when they try to hurt me again?

Because it was simple common sense to know they would. Ryou would never be able to measure up to their standards, no matter how hard he tried. The sad part was, he didn't hate them, the bullies, no that was for Bakura to do, he couldn't hate. As Bakura had a fun time reminding him, if he could forgive his father for pushing away his mother and sister, if he could forgive those ignorant children for harming him, then he couldn't hate, it wasn't a part of his personality.

:Ryou, there aren't any bullies.

He nearly topples backwards out of his chair in his haste to get away from the green eyed woman as she reached out to him. He **_did not_** like anyone touching him, no one but Bakura could touch him. Cold hands, rough hands, tugging at him, pulling him down, down, down.

In his dreams, thousands of hands would be dragging him down into pits of molten gold, the creation of the millennium items. Their pained screams and hysterical crys would echo in his head long after he'd woken, and sometimes they would be coupled with a sick laughter, laughter that could almost be mistaken for sobs.

Whenever he wakes up from those dreams, Bakura will be there, rusty brown orbs fixed on something he can't see but he lets Ryou hug him from behind. He sometimes even lets him rock him like his mother used to rock him.

:Yes there are! Do you really think I could be **_that_** sick?!

He knows he sounds hysterical, and he hopes that it will be enough for her to overlook the slight emphasis he put on the word that. He's sick, he knows he's sick, but how sick has yet to be answered.

:No! I mean, Ryou, from what you've told me about Bakura and these bullies, I think you've developed something known as Dissociative Identity Disorder, DID for short. You have multiple personalities, this Bakura is simply your mind's way of coping with negative emotions.

You lost your mother and sister when you were seven years old and your father is always away on business, you're lonely but also self destructive. However, your mind can't justify harming yourself so you create a situation that makes sense to you. Anthony Donavan and Roger Thiery transferred last week, those cuts are recent, your mind justifying your self-mutilation.

Bakura has a short temper because you have one, Bakura is the you that you suppress. You can't hate your father for leaving you alone and you can't hate your mother and sister for dying so instead you hate yourself. Your mind doesn't understand hating yourself, so Bakura does it for you. Your mind's self defense if you will.

Wow, and his faith in her intelligence is slightly restored, such a concise diagnosis, too bad she was wrong from the get go, especially the part about Bakura hating him. Oh well, he'd had his fun putting on this little act for as long as he'd cared to, he might as well end it here and be done with her. End it before Bakura got mad at him for not following instructions that is, and decided to be particularly messy.

:I'm sorry Ms St. Daniels, I don't think I've been completely honest with you. Can I start over?

And how can she possibly say no? Confused though she be, the transformation from a scared boy, claiming this 'other one' talked to him, was his friend, and protected him from phantom bullies, to this cherry, bright eyed cherub. If this weren't an indication of DID, then nothing else was, at least in her book. Ha, what would she say when she met Bakura?

:If you'd like.

He flashes her a dazzling smile and carefully removes his school jacket, mindful of the various cuts that mar his once flawless arms.

:Hello, my name is Ryou Bakura, a pleasure to meet you. Now I know why I'm here, the cat from the flagpole, breaking all the mirrors in the boy's bathroom, killing a pigeon with a mirror shard, pulling a switchblade on Mr. Willson, breaking Kevin's arm. I would like to take this opportunity to say that I did none of those things, the credit goes entirely to Bakura.

That cat used to keep him up at night, running on the roof and meowing outside our window, he only thought it fitting it be strung from somewhere high up. The mirrors bothered him because whenever he sees my body it makes him miss his old body. The pigeon was annoying him and he had a left over piece of mirror from the washroom, the laughing in class was random, he was just imagining choking the life out of Mr. Willson. As for the bully, Kevin, Bakura is very protective of his Yadonushi.

Oh that's right, you still don't know who he is, well Bakura is a five thousand year old spirit who lives in something called the millennium ring. Although he hurts people which I would never do, I find this completely justified as 1) He's had no one but a bloodthirsty demon to speak with for all the time he's been in the ring, 2) He's trapped inside the thing his family was killed to create, and 3) He's been dumped into a strange time with me for a host.

He is my only friend, has been since Amane and mother died. He talks with me but more than not he just sits with me, holds me, hides me from the rest of the world. Everyone is so mean to me, they don't like me because of my white hair, they think I'm too pale, I'm too effeminate. He understands because when he was alive, he was an outcast as well, he had white hair as well, sometimes he even tells me about his life as the Thief King.

Hmm, I guess you could call it therapy, our own little form of therapy to cope with our messed up lives. Huh, this session has actually been helpful, third time really is the charm I suppose."

He smiles shyly at her, the picture of innocence, but for his eyes, his eyes which had gone cold, darkened until they were nearly black with barely there hints of red. He could see the disbelief in her eyes but he didn't really care whether or not she believed him, it wasn't as though she were going to live long enough to tell anyone.

:Oh Ryou, I'm so sorry, but don't worry. We'll schedule regular visits, we'll work through this, I promise you that I will help you get better.

And then, he wasn't Ryou, she could see the subtle changes, his eyes for one, Gods, no one could miss the eyes. Scenes of bloodshed and widespread war seemed to reflect in those nearly black eyes, as deep and destructive as a black hole, nothing could escape. He smiles evilly at her, his canines pointed to the degree where they almost appeared to be fangs and his hair is so much wilder, as though this person had been living in the jungle all his life.

:Hello Ms. St. Daniels, my name is Bakura.

* * *

_She was smarter than the rest of them, don't you think Yadonushi, still she was rather stupid._

He smiles shyly, mystified with the way their fingers fit together, all the similarities, well they do share a body after all.

_Hey, I'm talking to you._

"I know, but maybe I don't want to talk."

He giggles impishly and throws one leg over the other's hip, straddling him, rubbing their needs together. The sweat has just about dried from their last round but Bakura's ready for round three was it, four, five? Oh what did it matter anyway?

They were inside Bakura's soul room, such a lovely place really, so many glinting surfaces. From the golden floor to the gems scattered on the floor, or the velvet pillows that lay everywhere. The only piece of furniture in the place was a palatial bed, or maybe mattress was a better description, there was no bed frame, just a large, soft mattress. Reams of silk hung down from the ceiling, hiding them from the rest of the room.

He gasps then moans as Bakura pierces him and all coherent thought flies out the window. He's where he belongs, with his darkness, the rest of the world can burn to the ground for all he cares anymore, so long as he's left with Bakura.

* * *

There are at least two police cars when he gets to school, it's been two weeks since his meeting with the therapist. Two weeks since Rin St. Daniels had a nervous breakdown where she raved about some white haired demon with black holes for eyes trying to steal her soul, or some such nonsense. She'd been committed in less time than it took to say 'Dark Necrofear'.

He pauses in the courtyard where some of the girls are crying and some of the teachers are trying to get the children to move on but there's no possible way they can hide her. The green eyed therapist, Rin St. Daniels, who's been stuck onto the flag pole, in four different pieces.

It's like a human shish kabob, she's been cut vertically and diagonally, two legs from the mid stomach down and two halves of the torso, one containing her head. He puts his hand to his face to block out the sun and notes that the heart is missing, he'd been wondering about the blood in the bathroom. Her eyes and mouth are sewn shut and there's a black substance leaking out of her chest cavity.

"W-what happened to Ms. St. Daniels?" he whispers, grabbing a teacher's sleeve as he hurries past, it's a pointless question, after all, everyone can see what's happened to her.

"Something horrible, there's writing on the wall of her office, the police are still in there," Mr. Gabriel replied before continuing on to wherever he had to be.

"Poor, poor Ms. St. Daniels, she really had no idea what she was fucking with. Oh well, all we can do is wait for the next one." The whitet sighed to himself and blew a kiss to the dismembered figure on the flagpole, warm chocolate eyes darkening for a split second before returning to their normal shade. The golden ring grew cold against his skin and seemed to want to drag him down but he didn't stop, didn't falter, just continued walking.

* * *

**DEF: Before anyone asks, Rin St. Daniels is one of my other names, so yeah, I killed myself, messed up. Anyway, I agree with Rave in the sense that Ryou isn't a typical victim, or that he even was a victim. Bakura might not have loved him, he might have been using Ryou for his own means but in the end, he was still Ryou's Yami.**

_Ravyn: Well, this was supposed to be a showcase of Stockholm Syndrome but turned out to be different. We will get around to doing Stockholm and maybe its reverse of Lima, it all depends if you, the readers, want that. _

**_Gabriel: You're sick, you know that? As stated previously, none of us here under the rock, in the hole, in the cave next to Atlantis own any of the stuff mentioned. If you liked this, and I'll be shocked if anyone does, please review._**


	2. Of course I love you

**DEF: Sorry for neglecting this, I was too caught up with Insanity catching Red Court breaking, but I'm back on track and here's a semi-Stockholm syndrome Puzzleship. Next up is most likely Bronze and after that I start to mix them up. Expect Thief and Death.**

_Dove: The pov types will be constantly shifting as well as which name appears for the disclaimer. And since I just mentioned it, We here at DarkeEcoFreak Inc. Don not own Yugioh! In any shape or form. Also, shout out to TheeWiccaChick who inadvertently figured out the second chapter.  
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* * *

I love him, and he loves me, that's all there is to it. I don't care that he leaves marks on my skin, that he carves into my flesh, that he bruises my neck, because I love him and he loves me.

You might wonder who it is I'm talking about, well, I'll have you know that the one I love is none other than my Yami, the other me, my partner. We've been together for a long time now, even when he was in the puzzle I hadn't completed, we always knew about each other, somewhere, in the deepest corners of our mind. He's the other half of my soul, we complete one another.

I don't know when he first hit me, it doesn't matter that he's only a spirit, he'll pull me into his soul room and take me there. The marks shouldn't remain, the pain shouldn't stay but it does, whether we want them to or not, they follow me into the real world, maybe it has something to do with the fact that we're both one in the same.

We've always loved each other, from the very beginning, when he saved me from the bullies who were trying to hurt me. He broke them for daring to touch what was his, and for that I was grateful, and that makes me a bad person, such a horrible person.

What good, honorable, noble person would wish that upon anyone? Ushio's mind was broken, broken beyond repair, the doctors had no idea what was wrong with him, how he'd gotten that way. I'd visited him once, just to see for myself what my Yami had done to him. He was drooling mess, when he noticed me, he started screaming, horrible, horrible screams, they echoed off the walls of his room, or should I say cell?

They'd locked him up in a bare white room, he wore white clothes and sat on a white bed, when he saw me, he tried to get away. He clawed at the walls, screaming and wailing like a wounded animal, Yami just laughed at him, said it was just punishment for his crimes.

I'd gotten scared after that, I'd taken off the puzzle for a week, more bullies came, they were smart, they waited until I was alone. I came home with various bruises that I had to hide from Grandpa, he still didn't know about the bullies, although it was kind of obvious, maybe he just didn't want to see it. Anyway, when I put back on the puzzle, Yami realized what had happened of course, he'd hunted them down and punished them much the same as Ushio.

After them…he punished me. I had been stupid thinking I could manage without him, he was my darkness, my strength, without him I was weak little Yugi Moto. He slapped me across the face in anger but he instantly regretted it, he soothed me, told me how sorry he was, how it would never happen again.

And I forgave him, I always did because I had to, he was me, I couldn't hate myself, I couldn't otherwise I might go insane. I might become like Ushio and all the rest, locked up in a white room. They would take away my puzzle and I would be completely alone, alone and broken without my other half.

I winced slightly as he wrapped gauze around my arm where it'd been cut when he threw me against a mirror, I'd been stupid again, letting an opponent get the better of me in a duel, so stupid. I should have realized what that trap would do, should have counteracted it instead of triggering it and losing more than half my life points, I won in the end but only by a thousand points.

What kind of Game King lets his opponent take advantage of him like that? I wasn't fit to carry the name, Yami was the true King, he was the reason we won more than half our duels. I was just the front so people didn't get too suspicious, didn't realize that their opponent was really a three thousand year old spirit.

"Yugi, why do you always let this happen? Do you think I like punishing you?" my Yami sighed, applying salve to my bruised throat, I shook my head listlessly.

"Then why do you fail? I don't ask for much, only that you compete to the best of your ability and what you did out there today was not your best," he chided, gripping my wrist tightly.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. I promise it won't happen again," I lied, because no matter how much I wanted it to be true, I just wasn't the person my Yami thought I was, which meant I was a liar. I wasn't brave, I wasn't smart, I wasn't innocent, I wasn't good, I wasn't strong.

I was a coward, I was stupid, I was tainted, I was bad, I weak, I was everything he wasn't. After all, if you're going to be perfect, you always need a place to store your imperfections. I was Yami's storeroom, the place he'd gotten rid of all his flaws, he hated me because I reminded him of what he once was but he also loved me for the same reason.

People said I was the light and he was the dark as though I was the good one, the pure one, no one ever sees the bad side of being light. When you were light, everyone expected you to do the right thing, never mess up, never have any bad thoughts, always win because that was what light did. Light didn't make the hard decisions because it was too naive and ignorant of the evils of the world, light lived in a little bubble that was protected and sheltered from everything else while dark did the dirty work.

Dark was enticing and beautiful and the exact opposite of the light. Dark was allowed to mess up, allowed to do the bad things without ramifications because it's _**dark **_and everyone expected it. People could love dark when it was bad and when it was good because during the bad it was expected and during the good, it was amazing. Sometimes I hated dark but never my dark, not anymore.

I understood now, I was a pawn and a pawn special enough to earn it's master's love wasn't allowed to hate.

"Please don't let it aibou, I hate doing this to you but when you do something so, so stupid, it makes my blood boil. I know you're very smart which is why it pains me when you make such beginner mistakes," he explained, cupping my cheek. I leaned into his touch, letting it erase the pain he'd dealt me, it was only anger, he loved me, truly he did, he just had a hard time controlling his anger. Honestly, I should know better than to anger him by now, maybe I liked the pain, maybe I deserved it. Deserved it for once hating him, for once thinking him my captor when the truth was he released me.

"I love you."

"I love you too, mou hitori no boku."

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**DEF:Honestly it's been a while since I wrote in the first person but I think it fit well here so hurray for that. Next up eisoptrophobia with the ever lucky Marik Ishtar!**

_Dove: It wasn't until the end we realized that Yami seemed more like his season zero self in the sadism but his regular anime self while loving Yugi, other than the whole abuse thing, so you can set this anywhere you'd like really. Reviews are loved by all and flames make a nice bonfire, it's usually rather cold at four and five in the morning when we type these things up.__  
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	3. That's seven years bad luck for you

**DEF: Ah, this was fun to write! Also one of my ex-besties found Insanity catching Red Court breaking so I had to visit the school guidance councilor T_T. Worst. Hour. Ever. But I convinced them it was just a story, yays!**

_Xoryia: Xor here with the disclaimer this time. Well seeing as the yaoi in Yu-Gi-Oh doesn't include steamy make-out sessions, you can guess that it doesn't belong to us here at Darke Eco Freak Inc. Tis a sad fact of life, we know, but please, enjoy this fanfiction of what could have been._

* * *

_Eisoptrophobia_

_Part of Speech: Noun_

_Definition: a fear of mirrors, seeing oneself in a mirror._

* * *

"Oh my gosh! Marik are you alright?" Ryou questioned, pale white hands fluttering around your face like little lost flutterblys, or was that butterflys? Which is it Marik? Don't you ever know anything?

"I'm fine Ryou, it's just a little scratch."

Of course it is Marik, it can't be anything more, anything for them to worry about, not that they would, or would they? They were your friends after all but how hard did you have to work to earn a place among them? Have you even earned a place? You only ever see Ryou on a regular basis anyway, the rest of them tend to avoid you like the plague, don't they.

How long did they look at you with fear in their eyes? Fear of what they'd find in yours, when was the last time you'd looked at yourself in mirror on purpose? Months, a year, more? You're just as afraid as they are, you're just as afraid that you'll see the madness lurking in your eyes, aren't you?

"Marik, it runs from your cheekbone straight down to your jaw, it is by no means a 'little scratch'," Ryou argued and there's actual concern in his eyes, will wonders never cease? Then again, only Ryou ever gave a damn and that's probably because he's much too kind for his own good.

"I've had worse, Ryou. I'm fine, honest," you assure him and it's true isn't it? You've been tied down to a stone slab with a bit of wood clamped between your teeth while your own father carved into your back with a hot knife. The sad part is, that's not the only bad thing to happen to you since that day. You've been raped, you've been beaten within an inch of your life, hell you've been half drowned all in pursuit of some stupid cards to defeat someone who might or might not have even been alive.

You're so pathetic, so idiotic and naïve, aren't you Marik? All the death and destruction and chaos and sorrow and murder and you're still some bratty child throwing a temper tantrum because no one loves you enough. What of Rishid who stayed by your side even as you manipulated the innocent to your selfish will on your insane quest? What of your poor sister you who tried for years to track you down, only to have her own life threatened when she finally does find her poor wayward brother.

"At least let me clean it before you leave. You look a right state you know, I wouldn't be surprised if you get called into the police station for questioning," the white haired boy, man now you suppose, joked weekly and what exactly can you say to that? Do you go along with the joke and let him think you've never done any of that? Let him think you've never been called into police stations before because someone saw you slinking out of some back alley where a body was found mere moments after?

Do you let him believe that you've never spilt the blood of the innocent without one drop of mercy or guilt? Yes you do, because letting him believe you're less tainted will make him think you have a chance at redemption when the truth is that ship sailed long ago. Murders are monsters, no matter how much remorse they have, no matter how much or how devoutly they pray, none can raise the dead. So don't you see? It's easier to not give a damn, it's not like your guilt will do anything for them.

"Sure Ry, I'm really sorry about your mirror though, I'm such a klutz sometimes," you apologize, but you're not just apologizing for the mirror are you? You're apologizing for being so Gods damned week, for being a spoilt child craving his father's affection while kicking apart all he stood for. That's all this is, isn't Marik? All you ever wanted was for daddy to love you for who **_you_** were instead of your gender, instead of being his one true heir to the clan.

But do tell how that works when you've already done away with daddy dearest? Didn't you already accept that none can raise the dead? And even if you could, would you really consider bringing him back? He **_is_** the one who kept you underground for ten years, who **_beat_** it into you that your only reason for being was to become the memo pad for some long dead Pharaoh.

"That's alright Marik, now hold still for a few moments, this is going to sting."

And Ryou is so considerate of an ex-murderer isn't he? He warns you against the pain, too bad he doesn't know just how used you are to this, huh? What do you think he would do then? Would he flinch away from you in disgust, would he run away, would he scream betrayal and demand you be locked away forever?

'Shut up!' But this is your mind Marik dear, oh but you like Ryou don't you? You like how kind he is, how understanding, how open, or do you really just like that he's Bakura's former host? You liked Bakura didn't you? He fascinated you, you thought he was like you, that he'd been wronged as you had. Foolish child! You knew nothing of what he suffered, what he was truly fighting for.

Do you remember what Yugi said Bakura had gone through, what they'd seen in the Memory World? He watched as his entire village, his friends, his family, were used as virgin sacrifices to create something they would never benefit from. He fought, he stole, he died for his people, he sold his soul to a demon just for a second chance to avenge them, and you? You just want to right the imagined slights done to you. You are a pathetic excuse for a tombkeeper.

Do you even know why the pharaoh's brother chose his village as their sacrifice? Because they were thieves? How foolish can one person be?! A village of thieves would have survived, they would have predicted the enemy's plan of attack, hell, they wouldn't have had a village in the first place! Thieves were always on the move, why in the name of the Gods would all of them settle down in a little village stuffed in a valley? No, the only reason the pharaoh's brother went after them was because they all bore either white hair or pale skin. They were the children of Nott, cursed by Ra.

"There we go, you look much more civil now and it probably won't scar but if does, I have cream that would fix it in a jiff."

Oh Ryou really is too kind for his own good, and you know exactly why he would have cream that gets rid of scars don't you? After all, you were the one that gave them to him, inadvertently at least, forgot that part of the Yami Hikari relationship didn't you, or did you just not care that you were hurting someone who had nothing to do with the Pharaoh?

"That's really okay Ryou, you're too kind. You should be yelling at me for breaking your mirror, or at the very least made me clean it up."

Pff, you act as though you would have done any of it, go on Marik if you're really sorry, really want your apology to mean something, tell him why you broke the mirror. Tell him what you saw that was so terrifying that you had to destroy his property.

"Oh, well that would just be plain rude, you're my guest after all, besides, I think the seven years of bad luck from breaking a mirror is more than enough punishment without my yelling at you," he explains and isn't that just the sweetest thing? Then again, Ryou always did believe in those worthless superstitions, don't break mirrors, four leaf clover for good luck, stay away from black cats, don't spill the salt now or the bad luck gremlins will eat your soul.

Hmm, you must have done all that and more in a past life to have become this fucked up, huh Marik? Pitiful to think so many of your ancestors gave their lives to their Pharaoh, never saw the light of day so that their children could carry on in their place and then you come along and break the delicate society they created. If you'd just stayed put, then you would have met the Pharaoh when he finally made it to Egypt and not have caused so much suffering.

"You're too superstitious Ryou, and I'll buy you another mirror tomorrow. Gods, is that the time already? I need to get home by two or Ishizu'll have my ass for a late night snack. Bye Ryou, see you tomorrow!"

Look over there Marik, do you see the glittering pile of disappointment? Ryou's swept it up, all nice and tidy but it's still there, can you see it? Of course you do, you always do because it follows you wherever you go, doesn't it?

"You better hurry then, it's already half one!" Ryou warned, can you believe that, he's warning you, as though anything that cow could do could be any worse than what you've already been through but you wave and dash out into the light drizzle because you're trying to be good now. Pretending that every mirrored surface you see doesn't make you flinch in disgust and the slightest hint of terror, acting as though you don't stay up at night twisting and turning, trying to forget the people you've killed.

Lying to all of them and yourself when you ignore the voice inside your head, don't you remember your first friend Marik? Your only true friend throughout the years, all the years we stood together, you and I, through every fight, through every killing, through every vengeful nightmare. Before they would lie and tell you I didn't exist and you believed them, why? Why did you believe them?

Did you think you'd outgrown your imaginary friend, that you had left him behind, locked him away with the rest of your pathetic childhood? Well, you're partly right, you did leave behind that imaginary friend, we both had, because I had grown to be so much more, another part of your mind to be precise. Even when I kept you up at night you denied my existence because to do that would shatter the fragile control you held, to acknowledge my reality would mean you were well and truly insane.

The human mind is a strange, myriadly complex object, so many parts, some conscious, others subconscious and so very many hiding spots, so many shadows in between thoughts and memories. You once asked where I had hidden myself, bided my time for all those years, the truth was, I was hadn't. I was always there, always made myself known but you simply chose to ignore me, for what person wants to admit they've gone insane? The first question was always followed by another, how had I been created? How had a mere coping mechanism grown into a full blown personality?

Well, the answer is quite simple and yet astonishingly complex at the same time, but in the end, it all came down to one thing, the Millennium Rod. Did you know it was made out of Bakura's siblings? His younger brother and sister, as well as others, but it was the only Millennium Item that included children and that gave it a certain quality the others didn't have; the power of shattered innocence.

Is it not strange then that it was the Millennium Rod that was created as a true weapon? The hidden blade we know so well, we used it to kill your wretched father as well as countless others, well you might have counted them but I am far beyond that, those deaths were meaningless after all. There is nothing more deadly than a broken child, a child who has had the innocence torn from their souls, example: Bakura. I don't think I need to elaborate, do I?

The hate and anger and sheer terror of the spirits who were trapped within the Rod called out to a like soul, only this soul was afraid to unleash its anger, instead, it was split in half and all the rage was sapped from one half to the next.

However, since most people don't know about the lovely Millennium Items, they would say your traumatic childhood caused your subconscious mind to develop some semblance of a consciousness. A second personality was created to deal with that which your true consciousness could not. Hmm, basically I am a storage room for the anger and terror you can't accept, the anger you still haven't gotten rid of and the past you can never come to terms with. And so long as you can't do that, I'll never leave.

Oh don't fret precious, I'll always be here, your one true friend. I'll lie to you and tell you all the things you wish to hear, all you wish could be real because you are my precious Hikari. My fragile light, my darling love. Here I am, here I'll always be. Do you see me? I'm waving to you from your motorcycle mirrors, do you see?

I know you see because you've frozen, your beautiful, lovely purple gems have gone wide and you've lost control of your bike. Don't worry my sweet, I'll make sure you stay safe, or perhaps that's yet another lie. And here I am taking control of your bike once more and you're locked away in our shared mind and soon I shall join you.

I know you hate me, I know you can't stand the sight of me, that's why you broke Ryou's mirror. Punched it so hard it shattered and you couldn't stand my fractured eyes staring back at you, so you took up the piece of glass and cut your lovely, lovely face with it. You smeared your blood on the mirror but it only made you all the more breathtaking.

Oh I wish you could have seen how wondrous you appeared, tainted by rubies as you were, it only made me want you more. I know you hate mirrors, fear them because of me, because you see me staring back, watching, waiting, lurking until we are alone once more but if only, if only you knew how I longed for those moments.

If I had my way, I would lock you away in our mind forever. You make such delightful sounds when I cut you and lick away the blood, somewhere between pleasure and pain, it's the uncertainty that really turns me on. Don't fret precious, I'm still here, shh, don't cry, save your tears until I can join you and give you a true reason for them. I know you fear mirrors, but I love them, if only you would love them as I loved you, oh wait, you already do.

* * *

**DEF: Ahem, again I say it was fun writing this, as for the time period, um anywhere after Battle City. Next I'm trying to decide between Kleptoshipping and Crossshipping, for some reason I love Yugi with Marid and Bakura although I like Deathshipping as well, I've yet to find the right phobia/mental disorder for it.**

_Xoryia: Well there you go, Tender, Puzzle and Bronze. Look forward to all the pairings under the sun hidden in a tomb of those six. Reviews are loved, flames are appreciated and sugar is needed. Till next time!__  
_


	4. Blood and Fire, Control and Insanity

**DEF: Huh, first time writing in an AU for any fandom, must say it's a helluva lot'a fun. Here we have the ever loved, ever popular Deathshipping couple! Yes you read right folks! Deathshipping. The pairing of Yami no Marik, who is called Marid here, and Ryou Bakura. In this fic Ryou and Bakura are twins as well as Marid and Marik, just to clear that up.**

_Daniel: Ello there, so Darke doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh, thought that was pretty obvious but apparently not so here's your disclaimer. Also some warnings, vague allusions to death and outright homicide and indications of a lemon but nothing more explicit that you would get from a french kiss. If you people take it above and beyond, then that's your problem, no body parts but for torsos, hands, mouths and fingers are mentioned._

* * *

They've known each other for years, known each other but never really spoken, seen each other at school and around town but never really noticed the other. Marik and Bakura were best friends, or best enemies as they liked to put it and they were the twins of either one. Ryou and Bakura, Marik and Marid.

Bakura liked to watch things die, when he was a child, he would catch insects, stick them on a pin and watch as they squirmed until they finally kicked the bucket. When he entered high school his prey got larger until he was kidnapping the neighborhood dogs and cats and dissecting them piece by piece, burying the rotting corpses or just tossing them in the dumpster outside a Chinese restaurant. By college, his prey was much easier to catch.

Ryou would have preferred not to watch as his brother caught the defenseless animals and used them for his own amusements, not that Ryou was wholly against it, he just didn't want to have to watch. He would much rather just help Bakura catch the things and dispose of the bodies than to actually sit on the bed as his brother played 'Vet'. When people found out, finally found out after years and years of it going on, they both had more than animal blood on their hands.

Although since looks counted for most everything, no one would believe sweet, innocent baby bunny Ryou had done any of the things he and his brother had claimed. They thought he was just covering for his brother, trying to split the blame as they had split their lives, but it was a bit hard to believe when they found the pictures.

Marik liked to control people, probably to make up for the lack of control he'd been subjected to for most of his short life. He'd always looked like a girl with his long blond hair that he refused to cut and those open amethyst gems, who could resist him? He could get the teachers to do whatever he wanted, he could get out of classes with just a bat of his long lashes and a slight whimper. When they didn't have money for food, which was often, he would cry a bit and the cafeteria woman would give him and his brother their meals for free.

Marid had an obsession with. Maybe he had gotten addicted after their father had died, or after he killed him for that **_was_** what had happened, no matter what the courts said. Sure he'd gotten off charges as he was still a minor, ten years old to be exact, as well as the abuse charges the man had against himself from after his wife had died. Secretly the police and hospital staff that had been privy to the entire case thought the old man got what was coming to him.

You can't expect to beat a child as often and as badly as he had without their being some sort of punishment in the long run, but who would have thought one of his victims would be the one to met out this punishment. The police officer who responded to the call from the neighbors thought he might have went a bit too far when he decided he needed a replacement for his wife and that his youngest son would fit the bill.

It was just a recipe for disaster when those four met, Bakura and Marik when they were sixteen and in the same class. Marik tried his usual trick of persuasion only Bakura wouldn't take the bait, or rather he did but he took it a bit too well. Bakura went home with a bloody lip but a smirk fit for devil and Marik sported a black eye and a glare that could melt steel. It was hate at first sight.

Ryou and Marid made it a ritual not to get involved with their twins' school life, that being who they hated, who they fought with and all that. That didn't include those who they dealt with quietly, it was an unspoken rule between twins, you mess with them, I mess you up.

However, the real trouble came when Bakura and Marik got accepted to a tech college while Ryou and Marid got accepted a prestigious art college, five hours away. Neither pair had ever been separated before but it made sense, besides Mr. Touzouku wouldn't stop bitching about it. Especially since their older brother had simply refused to go to any college, preferring to open a club with Marik and Marid's cousin, Odion. Their father would never admit that he was impressed with his son's success in creating one of the hottest clubs in the country.

* * *

"That idiot brother of yours sent you some new paints," the blond called tossing the brown wrapped package at his roommate, not caring where it landed.

"Oh good, I've been wanting to do a new painting for ages," the albino complained tugging the black tank off the toned Egyptian. He released a frustrated sigh as though it were such a chore to have those slim fingers undressing him, couldn't let the other one think he was enjoying these paintings too much, now could he?

"Stop being a spoil sport and lie down on the bed," Ryou complained, pushing the now half naked man backwards onto the bed, discarding his own shirt in the process, his paintings tended to get ever so messy. Bakura had been rather generous this time, sending him four pots of the lovely red paint he adored so much, he and Marik must have gone a little crazy on their last splurge, he would have to repay them somehow.

"What are you doing today kazzab?" the blond canvass asked carelessly, tucking both arms behind his head knowing no matter what he did the albino would take more than half an hour.

"Mmm, not sure yet, nothing elegant that's certain. Maybe something a bit more creative than usual," the young artist suggested, half to himself and half to the man trapped beneath him. Electric blue hauyne locked with half lidded spodumene and something sparked off, tension filled the air, the promise of something explosive to come.

Slender fingers pried the cover off one of the pots, the tips dipping into the crimson liquid and tracing a prominent line down one tanned cheek bone. The scent of the paint filled the room and only added to the tension already there. Some of the liquid was poured into the already stained palm and then pressed firmly to one pectoral muscle leaving a scarlet handprint, a blatant show of possession, one of the few the paler artist ever made.

Soon the paint had ended up on the deathly pale chest as well as the tanned and both artists were painting each other, feather light caresses with the faintest of colour to near painful grasps leaving bloody prints in their wake. The painters weren't even using their fingers anymore, tongues were used as skillfully as fingers and palms, licking, sucking, teasing.

Clothes discarded moans filling the room, half formed mewls of delight, full bodied screams of pleasure all chased away the previous tension, the storm had broken and the spark had ignited. The scent of salt and rust was joined by something just as primal, just as ancient and the screams reached their peak. Heavy panting replaced the screams, soft whispering helped to chase away the memory of the tension that had gathered how long ago? They hadn't kept check, oh according to the clock on the dresser it had been hours, too many hours, they had somewhere to be.

"Marid, get up," Ryou groaned, rolling onto his side and wishing he hadn't as the usual pain spiked up his spine. It didn't matter how often they did this, Marid would always be too rough, not that he minded much yet another thing he and Bakura shared, and he would be sore for the rest of the day, or night as the clock declared.

"No, I'm sleepy," the blond Egyptian mumbled, throwing one tanned hand over his face to block out the light his albino companion had turned on. He had much more stamina than Ryou but not **_that_** much, he just wanted to sleep for the rest of the night and perhaps half the next day.

"Get your lazy arse up, did you forget we were burning Guy Fawkes tonight?" Ryou hissed, pulling on a pair of pants and a heavy shirt over it, winter hadn't set in yet but it was usually cold around this time, this time being midnight.

"Ugh fine, but you owe me for this," Marid muttered, already dark spodumene going one shade darker and narrowing slightly. The overall effect was quite menacing, especially since that intense gaze was coupled with a face splitting smile capped off with overly sharpened canines.

"I always owe you love, now put on a pair of trousers and meet me outside with the kerosene," the silver blond all but ordered but the identical grin on his face stopped the Egyptian from focusing too much on the commanding tone of voice. He always led, he was in charge, except when Ryou decided it was time to paint. Then **_Ryou_** was in charge, he got to say who did what, if Ryou wanted him to sit on the edge of their apartment roof during a storm then he would, if Ryou wanted him to lie in the middle of the road during rush hour, he would.

* * *

.: Hematomaniac: A person who has an uncontrollable obsession with blood. Someone with a _blood fetish_:.

* * *

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Marid murmured, hands in the pockets of pants had hung low on his prominent hips. Prominent, everything was prominent about Marid, Ryou thought absently, Marid was nearly his exact opposite. Bronzed skin to silvered, veiled spodumene to clash with electric hauyne, sharp corners to dominate softer angles, they were perfectly matched.

"Yes," he breathed, arms wrapped around himself as the flames leapt ever higher into the November skies. He knew why Marid loved them, they were uncontrollable, they were beautiful, they were primal. For the first alone the darker of the pair should hate them, he loved control, needed control otherwise he would grow angry and reckless.

Recklessness was something neither of them could risk, they needed to be cautious at all times, every time, not that the consequences scared them, in fact they would relish the consequences. But if they got caught, they wouldn't be able to play anymore. Garnet flames jumped higher once more as yet another body was added to the pyre, to the bonfire.

There were only two times Marid allowed control out of his grasp, one being fires, he loved them. The way they consumed all they were fed, the utter destruction of their meals, not a hair was left if you let them burn long enough. The heat was something he loved, reminded him of happier childhood memories, of two three year olds playing in their mother's garden in the midday sun.

"We'll go out tomorrow, get some more of that paint so you can make it up to me," Marid explained softly, the only other time control was taken out of his hands, given to another. Then they were lying on the grass, Ryou's back pressed firmly into the grass by the stronger male over him. Lips at his neck, too sharp canines against his pulse, moans ripped from his throat once more.

They moved closer to the fire, not caring that they might roll into it and go up in a puff of smoke; it was part of the charm of these fires. The exhilaration of danger, the adrenaline coursing through veins and common sense screaming at them to move away, that pesky thing called 'self preservation'. If they had ever listened to it, it had been long, long ago in a time where memory couldn't reach.

Heat assaulted his slight torso as his shirt was ripped from him, and never more was he glad for the copse of trees behind their apartment that functioned as a small backyard though really it wasn't. They were able to have their fires there, to light them and watch them burn far into the night, or more often, into the morning. They were allowed to bring their games home with them without having to explain too much, what fun they had then.

Next to them the fires burned and burned, he often wondered if they would just keep on burning til the end of forever but they always died down, died away, carrying with them so many secrets. So many secrets burned to the ground, so many lives cut short by their games. Once, just once, he felt badly about it but then he met Marid and that just made the games that much more fun!

Bakura killed animals. Marik frequented strip clubs. Marid built roaring fires. Ryou painted.

Bakura liked to watch death. Marik loved to manipulate others. Marid needed control. Ryou enjoyed playing in blood.

* * *

.: Pyromaniac: A person with an irresistible urge to start fires:.

* * *

**DEF: Ah, I do so love Deathshipping, I mean, the only way Ryou would be with Mariku in the first place would either be A)Non-con Shota or B)He's as crazy, or close, as Mariku. So what'd ya think of my first Deathshipping? Also, there might be a Thiefshipping that corresponds to this, it all depends. And as I apparently have Trini readers, any Lakshmis out there? Any of you going on the trip Wednesday coming?**

_Daniel: Right, anyways. Did ya like the pairing? Did you like the manias? If there's a Thiefshipping to go along with it, they'll have either manias or philias. Oh, hauyne and spodumene are gemstones, hauyne a bright blue and spodumene a darker purple closer to violet. Until next time, review like you get paid to._


	5. It all ended in Fire, but you in Ice

**DEF: Do not even ask what this is supposed to be because I'm not quite sure. This was inspired by that old one-two rhyme and showcases Lima syndrome as for the pairing? Um, ?xYugi with hints of Puzzle/Blindshipping, it was really supposed to be more friendship but the person really blew it out of proportion.**

_Robin: We don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, we'll never own it so stop thinking we ever will and just read the story._

* * *

The sound of the sulfurous head scratching just milliseconds before the light flares to life and then there is a tiny flame to illuminate the darkness in which you sit, trapped. Do you think it hope? Do you believe there is a way out of your personal Hell? How very naive of you my little Game King.

Do you think me so foolish to forget them there? That I would leave you alone with a source of hope that I could not crush? You mortals are so pathetic it sickens me, but at least you are stronger than my host, it was barely any fun to break him but I managed to eke some enjoyment out of it. I am an opportunistic predator; I have to be otherwise my life would be devoid of any thrills at all and you know how I love my thrills.

There you sit, cowering in the darkness, your little light, your flame of hope, to comfort you as I lurk in the shadows, waiting until you pluck up the courage to stand, to disobey me and try for freedom. I know you fear me, it would be pointless to do this if you did not fear me but it would also be pointless if I had broken you outright.

No, I let you believe the others might miss you, that they might come for you because hope really does give you mortals the drive to carry on. However, the truth is very often the opposite of whatever romantic fantasies you manage to dream up.

In your mind, Good triumphs over Evil and peace is restored to the land while the dashing young prince/hero gets his lady love. You mortals are such imaginative creatures. The reality is so much bloodier and so much more **_delectable_**. Instead of preplanned victories, there would be age long wars, there would be double crossing left right and centre, assassins would flourish, rulers would be dethroned, cities would burn to the ground, the blood of the innocent would wash the land with its lovely, lovely red.

Those who survived were those who double crossed first, who drove their sword into the chest of once allies, who shed blood before theirs could drown the land. Countless mortal wars had I seen, countless lives lost there had been and sometimes for the most trivial and asinine reasons in the world. But do you know what wars were so most often fought over? Not peace, not freedom, not land, but love.

Love. That disgusting mortal trait that make you all the weaker, when you loved, you left yourself wide open for attack. Your guard is lowered and the enemy is allowed sneak in like a thief in the night and kill you ever so easily. It's a shame really, so many great rulers, dethroned not by their treacherous subordinates but by the love for their people.

Ah, have you the courage the go against your basest instincts of self preservation? Do you dare get to your feet Game King? Oh, you do dare, and now I shall have a merry hunt while you plunge through darkness, running for your pitiful, insignificant life as I stalk you, hunt you like the witless animal you are.

Oh, but you make such a delectable pet, so tender and sweet. What is that sound, are you laughing? Have I already broken you beyond repair? Too bad I say, it would have been fun to chase something sane for once, sane are often unpredictable, at least to the insane they are, but now you are as I and that makes you all too predictable and so very **_easy_** to beat Game King.

"~One, two. I'm coming for you.~"

You hear my voice don't you, Game King? Hear my mocking singing, mocking for I am not coming for you but you are stumbling blindly towards me. Come closer my little Game King, ever closer to your Master and his gory little nursery rhyme. Were you not the one to teach it to me? Oh? Hmm, I never could get the words right.

"~Three, four. Guts and gore. ~"

Screaming now, screaming that sounds like laughter, high pitched and piercing, you are trying to damage my delicate hearing are you not? And in that way you are different, so very different than the others, the friends you believe are coming for you. You believe your friends to be searching for you, don't you Game King? You believe that as you sit cowering in the corner of this place the damned Pharaoh is searching for you, leaving no stone unturned in his quest for you. The truth is slightly more drab than that though, I'm afraid. I killed them all, killed them wearing your face, making them believe they had been betrayed by their ever so precious Game King.

You see, you belong to me Game King, and as such, I should be allowed to play with you as I please, as I wish. I burned them, watched as their insignificant bodies went up in smoke, my host included, he's useless now anyway.

They fought and screamed and cried but never laughed, does that give you some measure of peace? You are the only of my prey to have ever laughed. Have I ever told you how much I love your laugh? How much I loved the way your laugh would sound so broken. Broken, you have always been broken, shattered, fractured, have you not Game King? From before, from betrayals long past, from promises never kept, from love never revealed.

"~Five, six. You make me so fucking sick. ~"

Are you running? Why are you running from me little Game King?! You were the one who lied to me, betrayed me, left me for your damned Pharaoh! You know how much I hate, how much I loathe the very air he breathes and yet you went to him like some wanton **_whore_**. You belong to me! Don't you understand that? I didn't kill you the first time we met because I claimed you for my own and I don't get rid of my pets. Without reason at least.

"~Seven, eight. You sealed your own fate. ~"

Run my little Game King, run all you want, you will never outrun me. What was that children's story you told me once? The Ginngerbeer man? Gingerbread? Ah yes, run run run, as fast as you can, you can never outrun me for I am shadow, I am darkness, I am your death. My precious little Game King, you damn **_slut_**!****

After all I did to please you, I got rid of the old man who kept you locked away, fed off your fame, I did away with those false friends who only had eyes for the Pharaoh. I even kept you nice and safe in this dark little hole as I burned them all, and what do you do as soon as I allow you an inch of slack? You run to the damned Pharaoh.

Now run little Game King, run back to your Master like the worthless dog you are.

"~Nine, ten. This is your end. ~"

Shh, no tears my Game King, you made your bed and now you must lie in it. Listen closely and you can hear the screams of your false friends as they beg for their pitiful lives, as they betray you. Hear the cries as the rest of the world burns, but you won't burn, no, fire is the not the end for my little Game King.

That's right, struggle all you want, it only makes this all the more enjoyable. To have you here in my arms after you ran to the damned Pharaoh, did you know you look like him? Yes, I never mentioned it before but you do bear a striking resemblance to him but that's okay. I love you still, you are precious to me still. Maybe **_because_ **you look like him, yes, that's it. You are my precious pet because you resemble him so, because I can have you as I could never have him.

No crying I said, that's better, don't worry, it will be over soon little Game King for your end is in ice. Is the rope cutting into your wrists? Good, at least you'll feel some of the pain before you black out. Goodbye my little Game King, it was ever so fun playing with you this time but as always, I win at the game of life, oh, didn't you realize we were playing?

Oh well, too little too late to turn the game in your favor. Down, down, down little Game King, hmm, you make ever so many bubbles as you sink into the ice. Freeze in hell while the others burn, my last gift to you, once precious pet.

"~Eleven, twelve. Into hell we delve. ~"

And as the world burns I shall stand watch over the flaming corpses. So long I lay forgotten, trapped within a piece of gold by the dead Gods, the ancient Gods. Where are you now? Ra, Horus, Isis, Basset? Have you forsaken your children in their last great time of need?

Or have you finally fallen to time? Your power waned until all you can do is watch while I become the new God of this dead world. Then again, Gods rarely care for the affairs of mortal creatures so long as they do not affect them, isn't that right Amun-Ra? You cared not as your children suffered under Zorc, as he tried to wipe them all out, but as all Gods, he relied to much on these mortal creatures, unpredictable, weak mortal creatures. As the old saying went, you want something done, you must do it yourself. You believed yourself so far above the reach of those mortal philosophies and _**that** _is why I rule now.

Amun-Ra has fallen, Nut has hidden away, Osiris deals with the dead that journey to his realm, Basset mourns loss, Ma'at weighs hearts against her feather and I laugh at them. I am the one that stands here, the new God. I am alone.

I am a God, a true God for I have rid myself of all mortal anchors. My host, the damned Pharaoh, my precious Game King. I alone am left standing, watching, a sentinel over this cursed land, a God of these damned, alone. A God does not need to be loved, only feared for his power and I am feared. I am alone and I am feared. I am alone.

* * *

**DEF: Again I say I have no idea who the 'I' persona is but it's a toss-up between Bakura and Mariku. Whoever it was, finally got their wish and got their revenge on the Pharaoh via Yugi but in the end they never really wanted to be alone, oh well.**

_Robin: Personally I though it was Mariku but to each his own. Currently she's working on a Thiefshipping oneshot for Halloween, it shall be gory and bloody and smutty, so look out for that, til then review, flame, whichever floats your goat!_


	6. Death brought them Together

**DEF: Well my internet went down since Friday and three more chapters were born of that, it's sad really. Anyway, this is my take on Liberashipping, obviously occurring in an AU, wherein Yami, Ryou, Bakura (Akefia) and Yami Marik (Malik) are dead. Sickleshipping is also mentioned in this fic and Fraglieshipping is hinted at as well.**

_Yasmine: Hello, I'm new to Darke Eco Freak Inc. but here to say the age old, DEF doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or anything else mentioned in the story. Hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

"Marik?"

"Yugi?"

Shocked sugite met panicked amethyst and held while ruby tears continued to fall, neither made a move closer nor did they speak, just observed. The tanned of the pair reached forward but thought better of it, retrieving his hand before it could make contact and let it fall limply to his side.

Neither of them had spoken since the accident, not that they spoke much before the accident, they were more friends of a friend than anything else. Yugi had been friends with Ryou whose older brother Akefia had been dating Marik's twin Malik, they had said hello to each other at most and even that was rare. It was just a coincidence that their cars had both decided to fulfill their lifelong dreams of becoming semi aquatic at the same time.

"What are you-please don't tell."

"Where did you-can I borrow it?"

Both mouths snapped closed but the confusion and the faintest fluttering of hope were reflected in facetted amethyst and sugite. Yugi had been driving with his older brother, Yami, in the passenger seat and Ryou in the back, Malik had been driving with Akefia in the front and Marik in the backseat. Akefia had died on impact, Malik had been trapped in the wreckage, urging his twin to get out through the broken back glass.

He didn't know everything but he had heard Ryou had drowned, fallen unconscious when the truck hit their vehicle, Yugi had been dead for ten minutes.

"Okay."

"Thanks."

And just like that, they had the beginnings of a sick, twisted, masochistic relationship, but a relationship all the same.

* * *

Three years had passed since that day, the day Marik Ishtar found Yugi Moto bleeding in the bathroom stall, damn locks never did close properly, but maybe it was just fate that Marik had walked in and not someone else. They both suffered from survivor's guilt, Marik because he hadn't tried to help his twin, although the doctors told him there was nothing he could have done. The car had been crushed and Malik's legs along with it, had he lived, Malik would have had no legs, but did they really think that made it better?

Yugi blamed himself for not being smarter, not remembering the countless safety tips all but beaten into their heads before they took their driver's exam. The truck had slammed into his car and he fishtailed around crashing into Malik on the way through the metal railing. Yugi had swallowed a fair amount of water by the time they fished him out and he had been dead for fifteen minutes, not ten.

"Quit hogging it," Malik complained, reaching with slightly shaking fingers for the joint, facetted sugite glared at him but didn't stop him taking the smoking paper. He didn't know how they got into drugs, they had been fine with cutting, or at least he had been, Yugi was the one that had the problem with it. He wanted something more, something that made you forget completely, maybe that was why they were sitting in a dark basement passing drugs back and forth.

"I saw your sister the other day," Yugi stated off handedly, slipping a blade from the lining of his jacket, did he mention just how cold it was in the basement? He exhaled, studying the smoke as it curled and danced before his eyes, so pretty, so free.

"I haven't seen her in a while, where'd you see her?" he asked but he didn't much care for the answer, the flash of metal against that pale arm was more than enough to catch his attention. They never cut their arms, too obvious, but it was nice to press the metal against your flesh sometimes, just to feel the edge, the power it held.

"When I went for this," the blond/red head/brunet answered, flicking his hand slightly to mean the switch blade. They were always careful where they bought their blades and drugs, their supplier, Duke, never stayed in one place too long and they never bought anything from the same hardware more than once.

"She's getting married," Yugi added, testing the blade against his palm once then making a neat cut across his fingers, they had to be extra careful when doing those or they ran the risk of damaging the delicate muscles. One of the hardest places to get right but also one of the safest, no one noticed a cut on the inside of your finger joints.

"How good for her," he murmured, taking a nice long pull before letting out more smoke, Gods how he loved it, so nice to just sit in the basement of Kame Game shop, fuck, do pot and cut. Yugi's grandfather had left the shop to the both of them after his passing and they had done wonders with it, expanding and renovating. They were opening a second shop in the town over in just two weeks, this was a celebration of sorts.

"Mhmm, she says she misses you and that she's sorry."

Cracked amethyst crossed, staring at his straight, tanned nose, before shooting the bird to the ceiling, he didn't give a diseased rat's ass for what Isis had to say, just how hypocritical could she get anyway? She'd **_disowned_** him, hadn't she? Her exact words had been something along the lines of

_'Such a disappointment!' _

_'Never could live up to expectations.' _

_'Only want what's best for you.'_

'_You need to stop hanging around with that Yugi boy, did you forget it's his fault your car went over the edge too?!'_

He thought it had more to do with the fact she was completely homophobic, which was downright confusing seeing as she had absolutely no problem with Malik and Akefia. Then again, she'd probably been in denial about that, after all, no one in their right minds would have ever given Malik or Akefia any shit about homosexuality being morally wrong and all that shit. If they had, they hadn't lived much longer, another little secret of theirs they'd taken to a watery grave.

Malik had been known as the manlier twin, the one who got shit done while looking insanely badass at the same time, too bad no one knew why he was like that. What would they have said if they knew Marik and Malik Ishtar had killed their father, granted they had ample reason to, the man had tried to kill them, it was only self defense.

Isis had been raised separate; with their mother who thought it better that the boys be raised by their father. Fat lot of good it did them mother, she'd had to take them after they finally killed the son of a bitch, and even then she didn't know how to deal with them, sending them in for counseling at the insistence of the police. Never mind the fact the therapist was slightly afraid of them, especially that gleam Malik would get in his eyes sometimes.

When Isis had walked on him and Yugi all but screwing on his bedroom floor, she'd screamed and ranted and told him to get out of her house. That had been two years ago, mother had been dead for five, when he was sixteen, Malik had been dead three, he was twenty one now, ten when he murdered his father.

Solomon Moto had taken him in, become his legal guardian for those few short months before he turned eighteen, and unlike Isis, had no problem with his Grandson having a boyfriend. As it turned out, Grandpa had had quite a few adventures with one Arthur Hopkins before meeting Yugi's grandmother and settling down as a family man.

"She can blow her sorry out her ass," he answered finally although Yugi hadn't phrased it as a question, it still warranted an answer. Again he said how very hypocritical of her to send her lame ass apologies through Yugi, the one she'd refused to acknowledge in any way, shape or form.

"Told her as much, the wedding's set for June 23rd," the other added prying the half smoked joint from his limp fingers, drops of sardonyx staining his bronzed skin. Sardonyx, the fake ruby, so much more common and less valuable, their blood described in exquisite detail. Once they had been filled to the brim with brilliant sparkling rubies but now all they had left was shattered, tarnished sardonyx.

"You talk as though you want to go," he murmured, taking the blade from paler fingers, pressing it against his leg to leave a streaming trail of red on the inside of his thigh. A lopsided grin found its way onto his face as he scooped up some of the blood and started to draw nonsensical little patterns on his paler lover's cheek. He snickered as the little sun he'd drawn on Yugi's cheekbone winked at him while the moon chased a star down towards his collarbone.

"Could be fun, she's inviting the old gang," the blond/brunet/red head revealed and the snicker transformed into an all-out laughing fit. His cheeks hurt from laughing, his ribs felt as though they were stabbing into his lungs and his stomach appeared to be trying to turn itself inside out. Never mind that the laughter spilling from his lips were more like rough barks, or grating chuckles, or that they sounded hysterical and more like sobbing than laughter.

"Of course we're going!" he managed to gasp, the laughter was bubbling from his throat, choking him, stifling him but he couldn't stop! It was just so, so, so damn ironic!

'The old gang'. The ones who had turned their backs on them after the accident, after they found out Yugi Moto and Marik Ishtar were dating because that was just wrong. They had agreed with Isis, had broken off all relations without a word, pushed them further into madness, into unreality.

"Can't wait to see their faces when we show up! Not dead, not disfigured, actually making money!" he all but screamed, throwing on arm around his lover's neck, the other gauging the knife deeper and deeper into his thigh. His lover exhaled, more smoke curling, twirling so high above their heads, almost looking like people, laughing, talking, dancing.

"Hello Malik! How's Hell?" he yelled, waving the hand that held the bloodied switchblade, not caring that he was getting shattered sardonyx on everything. Malik smirked him, dragging Yami and Akefia next to him while Ryou pranced around the three wearing little bunny ears.

"Ryou why are you wearing bunny ears? It's not even Halloween, silly bunny, billy sunny, fummy tummy, you're a rummy babbit!" he wheezed, Gods did his sides hurt from laughing, next to him Yugi was choking on laughter as well.

"Ryou's a bunny and Yami's a jackal, cackle jackal cause they're always laughing, aren't they? Hmm, jackals eat bunnties, true because Yami wanted to eat Ryou! Eat him all up until there wasn't a speck left. He lurved him so much!" Yugi giggled, tossing the almost finished joint away to play with sandy blond locks.

"Then Malik's a lion, rawr! And Kefi's a snakey, a big wiggly snakey! Careful they don't bite you, Yugi, game child, Heba! You're Heba now, that's game still, isn't it? You can be a baby panda and I'll be a gazelle! Yes! Marik the gazelle and Heba the panda!" he declared, cutting a jagged line down the centre of his lover's chest.

"Mmm, Marik!" Yugi-Heba gasped, then lips on lips, tongues invading mouths, the knife flashed again, taken from his hand and used to cut lines into his own marred torso. One would think that after his father had abused him so much, cut into him like this, he would have a fear of pain, of knives, but if anything, it just made him more fascinated with the damn things.

Raising lust, building heat and cries of ecstasy echoed around the soundproofed room, again and again, pounding into pliant bodies, both took it, both enjoyed it. Nonsensical shouts, strange, unrelated words spilling between their lips but just two need be there, Marik and Yugi, the words that had started this insanity and would no doubt end it as well.

Maybe it had been a coincidence, maybe it had been fate or maybe they'd just gotten lucky that day three long years ago. They might have lost brothers and friends that day but they found each other, and though this relationship of theirs was sick, twisted, masochistic, morally wrong and the rest but it made them both happy.

It gave them both a reason to greet the day, to not press that much deeper with a blade, to put on a smile for the world and pretend that they were just as sane as the next guy. Thank the Gods the next guy was nearly always their partner. And for those days when it wasn't, well, they were both damn good actors.

* * *

**DEF: Personally, I don't think Liberashipping would ever work out under normal circumstances, well unless you give Yugi some father hatred but to each his own. Tell me if they seemed Ooc, to me Yugi was a bit but grief does things to people, it's scary sometimes but just that's the way things are.**

_Yasmine: Did ya like it? No, yes, neutral? Say all that and more in a reveiw! Also, DEF apparently wanted to share this a while ago but kept forgetting so when you're finished reading and reviewing, check this out. Guaranteed to put a smile on your face watch?v=EE5camZ9wb0&feature=related_


	7. The spaces between my fingers are empty

**DEF: Ah, my first Fragileshipping, have to admit it was hard to write this one, people are a bit OOC in this but hey, can't get it perfect on my first try, can I? This is an AU where Ryou is a British painter, I reverted to the Egyptian names for Yami and Yugi so they're now Atem and Heba as well as the sons of the Egyptian ****Ambassador.**

_Wren: We actually asked our friend Meerah about Muslim funerals, her Grandpa died over the vacation so she knows how it goes. Also, none here at Darke Eco Freak Inc. own any names, places, countries or songs found in this fic._

* * *

_~Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder where you are. Are you up above the world so high, my darling diamond in the sky?~_

Where had his diamond gone? Why had his diamond been stolen from him? Stolen by a crazed terrorist, why, why, why did his diamond have to be so precious to everyone? Not because he was kind or gentle or attentive to all his needs but because his father was someone very important.

He glared down at those pale fingers of his, those fingers that his diamond had kissed so lovingly every day, had brought to his cheek and just held them there. Once he had loved those fingers as well, the way they could hold a paintbrush and just glide across the paper, creating spiraling lights, dancing shadows, creating something new and wondrous and beautiful all at once.

Now he hated those fingers, the way the spaces between them seemed so Gods damned empty! Empty without his diamond to fill the spaces. He glared at the tea in the cup he'd been nursing, the funeral had been three in the afternoon, it was currently minutes to five, according the digital clock on the mantel. They'd fought about that, whether or not they should get a digital clock or a traditional wall clock. The teasing way they'd shot down each other's ideas, what would he do now that was gone?

He flung the cup away, wincing slightly at the sound of the porcelain shattering on the kitchen tiles. That's right, he was sitting on the kitchen counter, if his diamond was still here, he would come in, pin him on the counter and kiss him senseless but that was gone now. That wasn't going to happen though, no it wasn't because his diamond had been the son of the Egyptian Ambassador which had been more than enough reason for radicals to take him hostage and put several bullets in his brain.

He smiled sadly at the broken cup, he remembered the day they'd gotten that cup, they'd been at a street fair and his diamond had bet him he couldn't knock down ten pins in one go. Needless to say, he'd done just that and won himself a blue and red glazed coffee cup.

His diamond's younger brother had been overwhelmed by grief, the brother's had been close despite the two year age gap between them. Their bond probably had something to do with their travelling with their father so much, not that their father neglected them, it was just hard for him to take care two small boys by himself as well as speak on the behalf of his country.

The faintest streaks of light peeked through his shutters, that would make it two days since he'd slept, two days since it had happened. His diamond had been kidnapped two days ago, one day ago they had found his body in the warehouse where the radicals had left it for the rats, thank the Gods there hadn't been any rats when they found it.

The funeral had been the same day, any relatives wanting to be there had to drop everything and fly in, his father nearly hadn't made it but managed to slip in just as the Imam was finishing up with the funeral rites. He had lost so much in just two short days, he had lost his best friend, his closest companion, the only one who could make him feel as though he was worth something in this damn world.

He nearly yelped out loud when the sound of the doorbell echoed around the apartment, it was nearly five in the morning who would be calling on him so early? He half wanted to remain in his spot on the counter, let whoever it was think he was asleep or not home or perhaps just didn't want any company at the moment.

"Ryou? I know you're there." The voice was so familiar it hurt, hurt so much but he knew it wasn't his diamond, couldn't be his diamond no matter how much and how hard he wished it.

* * *

He leant back on his palms, enjoying the sunshine on his face and the sound of waves lapping at his feet, Yugi was right, the change of scenery had done him good. A year and counting since he'd lost his diamond, a year since the ache in his chest had appeared, a year since he'd stopped painting.

"Ryou? Oh there you are, Rebecca and I were just heading out to the store, would you like anything?" He shook his head in the negative, but a soft smile was there as Heba ducked back into the house. Heba had been a Godsend, someone who knew what he was going through and wouldn't try to make things better, wouldn't give him the whole 'they're in a better place now' speech. It had been months before either one of them could talk about it, talk about the night he was taken, and even longer before either could admit that it was no one's fault really.

Ryou had blamed himself at first, saying he should have been there when his diamond was abducted, should have insisted he spend the night at home rather than try to catch an early flight out. Heba blamed the fact he had waited so long in inviting his brother to see his new house, six months they had moved in and he had taken those six months to pluck up the courage to invite his older brother over.

Heba's wife, Rebecca, was rather diplomatic about the whole thing, she didn't interrupt in when they were talking, didn't complain when they both went off into silence for hours on end. She had a caring heart, he saw why Heba loved her, they were well matched for each other. Well matched, not perfect because perfection didn't exist, they fought sure, they had opposing views on things, they were their own people, not entirely dependent on the other like some couples were.

Once he had loved to paint, the way his fingers grasped the paintbrush and then did whatever they wished, oh sure he controlled them but at the same time he didn't. He never really knew what the end product would be just bits and pieces, almost as though his subconscious knew exactly what he was doing but his conscious had blocked it out. His diamond had teased him about it, saying that in a past life he must have been a master painter or something of the sort and now his instincts were simply taking over.

He still hated those fingers, still lay awake at night waiting for someone who would never come home, still torturing himself with memories of sweet nothings exchanged what seemed like lifetimes ago. No matter how many times he went over each whispered conversation, every gasped promise, he could never get it quite right. He had learnt the hard way that it took two to whisper quietly, two to love and two to make one truly live.

He hadn't slept properly since that day, he couldn't seem to forget the way strong arms would wrap around him and make him feel so safe. Too many times he'd woken up with that name on his tongue but never past his lips, his diamond, he couldn't even bear to say the name.

* * *

Three years, six months, ten days since his diamond had been stolen and now here lay the thieves. So many years of hatred and pain had painted them as fantastical fairy tale monsters, untouchable by mortal hands, to have them here now was surreal.

They had targeted Rebecca this time, Yugi hadn't hesitating in shooting them both, they hadn't known Rebecca was pregnant. The two men were not that much older than himself, one was an albino with a track record from as far back as his eight birthday, the other was a born and bred Egyptian with a history of horrific murders. How the two had met was anyone's guess but anyone could tell they were kindred souls.

"Ryou. Are you alright?" He blinked slowly, the ache that had dropped into his chest three years, six months, ten days ago had eased, hadn't gone but eased. He stared at his hands, his fingers, **_his_**, not those, they were his once more, his because he didn't hate them, hate the way they appeared so empty without his diamond's between them.

"I-I think so, Yugi I think I'll be alright from now on," he whispered, staring hard at the men in the separate interrogation rooms. One as pale as himself, red eyes burning with hatred, pure white hair falling in spikes across his shoulders, the other wearing a macabre grin wide enough to split his face, spodumene gems cloudy with insanity and that crazy blond hair standing up in every possible direction.

He turned slightly, taking in his friend, his diamond's younger brother, Heba. They looked so much alike, they sounded alike, hell, they even dressed alike but they were different. That amethyst gaze he'd gotten used to over the years was now lighter, no longer hooded violet but sun kissed lavender.

"I know I'll be alright," he murmured, the time for grief was over, it was time for him to live once more, live for himself and his diamond.

Three years, six months, eleven days since he'd picked up a paintbrush, three years, six months, eleven days since he'd slept properly. His newest painting was a portrait of his diamond, of Atem Sennen. He hung it on the wall across from his bed. Every morning he held his fingers to its cheek, every night he pressed a kiss to its forehead.

_~Twinkle, twinkle little star, how miss you. Wish you weren't so far away from me, in Heaven high. Still my diamond in the sky~_

* * *

**DEF: Ahem, as not many know. I'm actually part of the young writer's club at my school and submitted this piece to be read to the entire school, it was accepted and shall be read by moi next week Wednesday. However, I changed Ryou to Wren so people wouldn't beat me with sticks over the homosexual content found therein.**

_Wren: Yes, yes, I feel so loved, to be the main character in a story to be read to an audience of eight hundred plus, all of whom know who DEF is. Also, this fic was inspired by Vanilla Twilight by Owlcity. Usually it goes along with Puzzle, Tender or Bronze but we like to shake things up. Read it? Obviously. So review it!_


	8. But it's all we really have

**DEF: Oh Gods, it's been so long since I updated this thing, but finally, finally, I have something new, and it's...Psychoshipping! Yes, Psychoshipping, that crazy ass pairing has finally been done by this crazy ass author, Hooray!  
**

_Jaklyn: God help us all -.-. DEF still doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh! Or any characters mentioned therein. Warning: Mentions of aggressive sex, gay relationships and blood. If this ain't your cup of tea, go drown in coke.  
_

* * *

"You're mine."

Tanzanite versus Sardonyx but they both know where this will end, with both of them wrapped in sweaty, cum soaked sheets. One awake, the other asleep, then waking up the next morning and not even making eye contact before fucking again.

"Do you see your name here? Cause I sure as fuck don't!"

Chest heaving with pain from earlier confrontations, be it sex or fighting, it was all one in the same now. Every single time, every fucking time they went head to head, it would end up with him on his knees or collapsed on the floor, this time he was laying in his own blood on the cold kitchen tiles.

"Go fuck a cactus bitch."

"Why? You're here; you're already on your knees. Nope, much easier to fuck you."

And they both know this is true as well, they hate each other but somewhere, somewhere so deep down they don't even acknowledge it, there is **_love_**. Huh, their form of the emotion was so twisted, so warped, it was most definitely **_not_** the lovey dovey, Romeo and Juliet romance shit that people are so taken up with. No, they were more…no there wasn't even an appropriate couple out there to compare themselves to, all he knew that it was this perverse **_love_** that kept them from killing each other.

At one point they had wanted the same thing, some miniscule point that neither one could even find anymore, not that they would go looking for it any time soon, it wasn't even as though they'd been working together at that point so it was all moot anyway. They were one in the same and weren't, they had no choice in their _affiliation_, for it wasn't a relationship. A relationship hinted at softer feelings, amicable emotions, between the two there was only hate and contempt and at times even envy.

One only existed because of childish desperationand hate, hmm, maybe that was why they couldn't coexist peaceably. Marid was created from hate so it would make sense that he would know nothing more, he had been created to cope with the pain and the hopelessness of his maker, of Marik. He had offered comfort in vengeance, in promised bloodshed.

The one of hatred twisted the creator until the creator was quite nearly as bloodthirsty, quite but not exactly, after all, he was still only a child. Too bad that didn't save him when his darkness decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. That hadn't ended well, it had resulted in a dead body and a lifelong thirst for vengeance against someone who may or may not still be alive. Oh there it was, the one thing in common that had stopped them from going at it til one or both dropped dead.

"You know, I love the way you're sprawled on the floor at my feet like a retched dog," the more psychotic of the pair commented, smirking nastily and sending a well aimed kick at the other's ribs.

"Fucker!" the saner one, although this was highly contestable, hissed as a booted foot came in contact with his already bruised ribs, he wouldn't be surprised if something was broken again. He twisted his head and spat a mouthful of blood, well fan-fucking-tastic, something was broken **_and_** bleeding inside him, again.

The psychotic blond stooped next to his injured _lover_, oh he could practically **_taste_** the sarcasm on his tongue as he thought that word, and grabbed him roughly by the chin, forcing him to look into those violet eyes he loved and hated. Completely opposite colours yet the darkness that lurked behind dusky purple and tainted crimson was the same, the same evil, the same madness. He wanted to bite the hand holding him but that would only result in a broken jaw and that was the last thing he needed on top of all this.

Lips smashed together, it was all teeth scraping against teeth and biting into lips until one gave in. The saner of the two gave in eventually when his lips burned with the bites dealt, letting the other's tongue plunge into his mouth, taking all it could. He reached up behind his 'partner' and grabbed onto that sandy blond hair and pulling him back, away, while his fist made contact with a cheek.

"You little shit," the assaulted one hissed but it was hard to see if he was really angered by the action or turned on, guessing from the large smirk on bloodied lips one would choose the latter.

"Go back to hell, _Marid_," the saner snarled, pushing himself to his feet and spitting more blood, that would be a bitch to clean up later, if he ever decided to clean, probably not though.

"Only if you come with me, _Bakura_," the previously named Marid spat, flat lavender orbs narrowed as he waited for their 'game' to continue. The albino cursed colourfully but didn't raise to the bait, they'd been playing these games too long now for him to get caught up so easily. The more toned of the pair had caught him in the kitchen as he was finishing washing his hands of his latest kill and simply couldn't pass up the opportunity to attack while his back was turned. He'd do the same in a heartbeat, could and had, so they were pretty much even at this point.

Equally shadowed gems locked, both frozen as they assessed the situation. There were two choices here, sure to anyone else there would a myriad of possibilities but they knew how the other thought, they knew how this would boil down. Either Bakura attacked and turned it into an all out fight, with blood and hair tearing and bones being broken, or Marid would lunge across the room and pull him into an aggressive make out session. The kissing would lead to sex almost as violent as their fights and in the morning he would be too sore to bitch about their fights the night before.

Their relationship wasn't healthy and it wasn't right, not by a long shot but it was the only life they knew really, the only life they knew where they wouldn't be persecuted by others. Before Ryou received the ring, before Marik became a tomb keeper, before Yugi solved the puzzle, none of them knew what they were living without. However, after the ceremonial duel, all the Hikaris began to lose touch with reality, with themselves.

Solomon Moto found his grandson swinging from the ceiling beam, Seto Kaiba found Ryou Bakura having a seizure in the school bathroom, Ishizu Ishtar found her brother lying a pool of his own blood. Marik needed seven stitches on each wrist, Ryou was in a coma for a month, Yugi was dead for a total of ten minutes. The utterly sick part about it all was the strange fact that this had all happened on the same day and they'd all been found at the same time.

You'd think Ryou and Marik would have no reason to miss their psychotic Yamis and that Yugi would have been strong enough to live without his other half seeing as he won their duel but when were their lives ever so simple? The light could not exist without darkness and darkness held no meaning if there was no light to chase it away.

The Yamis never explained exactly how they came back, how they all returned to their Hikaris, but no one really cared about the hows so long as they were all balanced. Bakura kept his name, claiming Akefia was of the past, Yami was of two minds over which he was but so long as he had his 'aibou' and his new boyfriend there was little chance of him losing his mind to the darkness. Marid, unlike Bakura, had never had any true purpose of obtaining the items other than for power and found pleasure in other's pain. At least Bakura had been fighting for his lost village, something he had only recently come to terms with, but Marid had no other reason for existing but for Marik's hatred and loathing for the pharaoh.

Ryou had a dorm at the local university while the ever illustrious Pharaoh lived with Yugi and Solomon in the Kame game shop. He had tried living with Ryou again but he could see how much his return was affecting the boy, not that he had ever hurt him, never mind **_what_** Marid implied but his mere presence brought up ugly memories. Memories of a childhood he would rather forget. Marik attended an international university and was always on the move, something about travelling for so many years making him stir crazy if he spent more than six months in one place. Odion had stayed in Egypt to watch over the pharaoh's treasure, a treasure which was currently paying for his, Yugi and Ryou's college education.

As for himself and Marid, well, that was simple enough to explain. If he could get over his three thousand year old grudge with a man who was alive at this very moment, alive and unprotected, he could forgive something as small as being sent to the Shadow Realm. After all, it wasn't as though he had been harmed there, if anything, he had been extremely bored as he waited for the time when he could slip back into the corporeal world. In fact, Marid had assisted him in a way so it was all fair there.

When they had all returned, they had returned to their Hikaris which meant Marid had appeared in a small country called Trini something or the other in the Caribbean, while himself and the damn Pharaoh showed up in the middle of their Hikaris high school graduation. **_That_** had been fun. Yugi and Ryou had had to lie and say they both had twins that lived in some obscure country, again Trini something or the other, it was rather popular it seemed, that they had never mentioned because of family shit.

This arrangement with Marid had been going on for at least a year, they having been back for nearly two, after they had both gotten piss drunk and in the same club. By the by, they had ended up in Bakura's apartment, paid for by the various things he stole, stealing was so easy in this time, or lifted off his victims. Hey, no one said he had to play good now that he was back, in fact, no one had said a word to him.

He really doesn't remember the first time he and Marid had sex, seeing as it was under the influence of alcohol, nor does he care, it wasn't for love as he'd so often heard, the only emotions between the pair were contempt and loathing and disgust. The sex was just for pleasure and to forget about past fights and the fights were to forget about the sex. It was like a drug, or perhaps it were closer to taking a drug with someone.

You could hate the person who supplied you with your fix or you could hate the person you indulged with but the allure of the drug itself called the two of you together. They fought, they had sex then they fought some more, it was a crazy, self destructive cycle that would break the both of them sooner or later. Marid would press his fingers just too tightly around his neck, or he would go just a bit too deep with a knife and one of them would end up dead.

The blond cocked his head to side slightly, a confused pout playing on his lips before they both burst out laughing. Yes, **_laughing_**. This entire thing was just utterly and completely fucking **_insane_**! They fought, cutting, bleeding, bone breaking, hair tearing, flesh ripping fights, they has sex, rough, kinky, hair pulling, tied up, bordering on rape sex. They had fought over the bodies of their victims, they had fucked in the blood of their kills, they were crazy, psychotic, homicidal sons of bitches. One or both would end up dead one of these days.

"I'm going to visit Ryou, remember to take out the garbage," he called over his shoulder, throwing open their kitchen door and striding out into the hallway.

"Whatever bitch, take your keys with you. I'm not waking up three o'clock to let your sorry ass in!" came the reply, he couldn't help the slight smirk appearing on his lips.

Sardonyx orbs widened as a knife stuck in the wall in front of him, not an inch away from his face. White teeth clenched as he fought the urge to snatch the knife from its perch and storm back into the kitchen to rip out that son of a bitch's throat. Not that it was meant as a threat, no, the son of bitch was offering more of that BDSM shit he'd mentioned earlier.

"Don't forget your knives, Bakura-_pretty_. I'd hate for you to be attacked without some sort of protection," Marid explained, never mind that the only one who ever attacked him, or even **_could_** get him, was standing not five feet behind him. The albino didn't need to turn to see the other leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, one side of his mouth upturned in what could almost pass for a smile. If the upturned side of his mouth didn't resemble a dog snarling just before it bit.

"How thoughtful of you Marid-_crazy_," he replied, yanking the knife from the wall and continuing down the hallway. He would take the son of a bitch up on his offer when he returned from visiting his light, something he did every week, just to make sure the boy hadn't gone suicidal again. Behind him he heard the door slam shut and crazed laughter sounded from their apartment.

Yes he might hate Marid, but there is no measure of love without hate just as there is never such a thing as hate without some drop of love.

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**DEF: Yeah, everything ends up in Trinidad cause we jus dat bad! But seriously, I needed a place that was rather obscure and Trinidad was perfect for it. ****  
**

_Jaklyn: ...Right, so comment, which shipping would you like to see next? Couples, threesomes, foursomes, fivesomes (is that a really thing?) orgies, all are accepted. **  
**_


	9. It's all I really wanted

**DEF: Damn I haven't updated this in a while, oh well. This chapter started off so very differently, I have no idea how it got to this point but whatever, my stories nearly always take a darker turn than I intended, so now, please say hello to my interpretation of Kleptoshipping! YugixYami Bakura whose name is Akefia for this fic in name only, he's still the sadistic Yami we all know and love just with a different name.  
**

_Summer: Blah, blah, blah, we don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!  
_

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_"Ah!"_

He smirked slowly, pressing the flat of the blade against that beautifully pale skin, using just the tips of his fingers to trace long forgotten patterns across the planes of the other's chest in searingly **_cold_** blood. Blood as cold as primordial winters past, a cold as the desert winds at night and a red so deep it was black, but then, it was only a reflection of this twisted creature's soul, it stood out so wonderfully well against that deathly white breast. He brought his scarlet stained fingers to his mouth and sucked, relishing in the sharp silvered bite of this mortal child's blood.

The figure underneath him writhed slightly, normally innocent indigo orbs sharper, darker, closer to dusk, closer to the blood that flowed from the multiple cuts about his torso. Sardonyx met shadowed amethysts, both could see the lust swimming, and not beneath the surface as it so usually was, no. They'd both made up their minds and decided they'd wasted too many years denying what they wanted, **_who_** they wanted, all because of what one thought was right and the other perceived as insanity.

A familiar anger surged through him and he tightened his grip on the warm handle of the blade, curses and screams fighting to claw their way out of his throat and slap themselves against the flushed cheeks of the bound form. These were the time he had to stop and think, to calm himself and remember that he loved the other rather than hated. After all, centuries of hatred and longing wouldn't, couldn't be resolved by a handful of years spent in lust and ecstasy. Even if this wasn't the one he hated, the one whom he had tried for millennia to destroy, they both wore the same face, each detail replicated until one was merely a copy of the other.

And _that_, **that** is why they were even in this position. Why he is able to sit there with his blade so close to the throat of the enemy, close enough to kill, and not drive it into the bastard's neck, because they had both been unfairly used by the same man. One thought of as nothing more than a filthy peasant, worse a thief, the other had only ever been a vessel for a far greater soul. They both bore the same hatred for a dead man, and if they could neither find peace on their own, fucking each other senseless couldn't hurt them anymore than they already were.

_"Mmph!"_

He panted slightly as he bucked up into the hard body above him, crushing their aching needs together and chasing away the darkness that encroached, that threatened to return. Shadows and darkness, hatred and vengeance, all had driven the immortal above him, they were worn proudly, used to chase away any and all, but not him. He was the only one able to fight just as hard, scream just as loud and hurt just as much. He was the only one who knew what it was to be nothing more than a rung in the ladder of a far better being, a God, nothing but an easily replaced plaything really.

However, he was also the one that could see beyond the bitterness and spite, beyond the malice and resentment to see the lust and pure sensuality that underlay the hate filled words. He was the only one who could tell the difference, the difference between insult and endearment, and sometimes he regretted it.

Sometimes he wished he could go back to when all the words, all the scathing remarks and biting insults only went skin deep, enough to hurt but never to wound, never far enough that they stuck in his heart and echoed in his mind. Maybe that was why though, perhaps that was the reason he allowed himself to be tied up like this and fucked. Allowed himself to be cut into a bloodied mess time and again, nothing more than another body filled with carnal pleasure, moaning aloud as the too sharp teeth of a monster sank into his skin.

Maybe because it was less painful than knowing which words were true and which were false, who had lied, who was right and who had never meant any of it. Or maybe he was just grateful for an excuse to touch.

Any excuse he could live with to touch and kiss and caress and possess, so long, so long of being left out in the dark had taken its toll on him. Even if he was meant to be the light, even if they had started as predetermined enemies, at least he had been acknowledged, **_him_**! Him, not some long dead God who had only needed a mortal vessel to be resurrected one last time, who needed a body to defeat his last great foe before leaving for the After Life.

Really, there was so much truth to the saying 'The line between Love and Hate is finer than a spider's silken web,' that is to say, the line had never existed.

_"Please!"_

More blood spilling across that beautiful, lovely, wonderfully gorgeous body, each strange symbol spelling out a long forgotten name, _his_ name. The name he had given up a long, long, long time ago when his hatred was only a fraction of what it had grown to be, when he held the title of a King, a King among peasants fighting against a God among men. He had given up everything, every Gods damned thing to avenge his people and still it hadn't been enough.

He'd sold his soul to a demon, to the devil, to a God, just for the merest chance of victory, he trusted so much to chance, so much to twisted, perverted faith, and what did he get? Less than a year of disappointment when the Gods once **_again_** intervened on this bastard's behalf. What?! Did his people mean absolutely nothing to them? Had they not prayed and offered in their name as well?

Apparently not if they had been slaughtered so easily, so heartlessly, every man, woman and child but for one, and for what?! To protect against the very thing he had called down upon them? They had set in motion the wheels of their own demise.

He grunted angrily, more animal than man at this point, as he pounded into the warm body below him, he didn't care for his partner's comfort, he was far passed that, to besides, what sort of victory would it be if he didn't cause his enemy some measure of pain. Granted his 'enemy' would start to enjoy it after a while, it was still something, no, not just something, it was the only thing he had left. This was his last resort, the last option left for a soul that would never find peace, that would never be allowed into the land of the dead, would never be allowed to rest with his family.

_"Akefia!"_

Filthy little whore, that was what he was, that was all he'd ever been. He'd been taught for so long that the only thing he would ever be good for was bending over the nearest object and letting himself be fucked until he could barely stand then fucked until he was too tired to stay awake any longer. He was a bitch and a slut and a weak, spineless human being, he might stand up for himself on occasion but it never meant anything, it was always eclipsed by something else, someone else's accomplishments. He was always forgotten, never seen until he served some purpose.

He was happy to do this though, to get cut up and fucked, to be fucked so hard he couldn't help the tears that sprang to his eyes when he tried to move the next morning. He was glad, ecstatic, overjoyed that for once, someone wanted him for who he was, if only he was something to stick their dick into, to sate a lust. They wanted him and not the Pharaoh, they wanted him, not the King of Games, they wanted Yugi Mouto, and even if he was sure that boy had died sometime long ago, he still wore the face and was more than happy to please them.

He smiled then, smiled as the white haired monster smeared his blood into the sheets, as they pounded into his sore and abused ass at an inhuman pace. He smiled a too wide, face splitting, joker-esque smile, one devoid of emotion and feeling, one that showed through to the ravaged soul he possessed. He didn't give a fuck that the white demon above him saw it, didn't care and would never care because it was the one thing they could share, the heartbreak and pain were different but the brokenness of their souls, that they had in common. One had soul his to a dark God in hopes of avenging the dead, another had his forcefully torn in two to accommodate a long dead man.

They were both shades, they were both just dead things walking around with a human skin. They were fucked and they were damned, so why not enjoy what little pleasure they could before the Gods caught up to them? Why not? Why fucking not!

_"FUCK!"_

That smile, that smile again, always that smile. It always stretched across pale cheeks as the boy beneath him came and came hard. That utterly psychotic smile, what he wouldn't give to have a camera, anything to capture that smile, to have proof he could show off. Anything of that sort would work because then he would be able to wave it in the world's face, show them that this, **_this_** was what they'd turned an innocent boy into. This was the person they held on a pedestal, the one they'd dubbed as their 'Savior'.

He wanted to shove it in the boy's so called 'friends' faces and make them see just what they claimed as their comrade, the monster they'd help craft and nurture. He wanted to flaunt it to the Gods, that this was what they'd created in order to aid their precious _Son_, this was what they had destroyed for the greater good. However, more than anything, he wanted to hold the child closer, wanted to laugh and never stop because here, this was what he'd lusted after.

This broken, fucked up thing was what he'd always wanted by his side, not the other child, Marik, not the crazed alter-ego, Mariku, not Zorc or even the death of the Pharaoh. All he'd ever really hungered for was something as tainted, twisted and perverted as himself, funny how the Gods he hated so had supplied him with it. But then, their world was fucked up and they were just a pair of sinners aching for something in kind to take the sting of reality away.

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**DEF: The ending was meh but really, I had no idea how to end this because writer's block. Sue me.  
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_Summer: I'm sure this chapter was satisfactory, leave a review please?  
_


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